


somebody's gotta find what you seek

by ohmcgee



Series: some kind of murder [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassins & Hitmen, Bad Dick Grayson, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Dysfunctional Relationships, Edgeplay, Frottage, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: Whatever’s going on in that pretty, messed up head of Grayson’s, it sure is fun to watch.





	somebody's gotta find what you seek

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this is a thing now. (:

Whatever’s going on in that pretty, messed up head of Grayson’s, it sure is fun to watch. 

Slade’s still not dumb enough to believe the kid’s actually changed for good, but there’s a crack in his good guy mask, that’s for damn sure. Hell, might even be one in  _ him.  _ Maybe all the trauma he’s had to deal with the last couple of years fractured some crucial part of him. Because, Slade thinks as he watches Dick beat the ever-loving mess out of some poor schmuck’s face, the kid is  _ definitely _ broken.

“Alright,” he says, casually leaning against the bricks as he watches. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but are you gonna finish him or are you gonna start finger painting?”

It’s funny, because he could. There’s practically a puddle of blood beneath the guy and Dick’s hands are covered in it.

Dick twists his head and looks at him, eyes bright like the hottest part of a flame, like the fire Slade always knew was inside of him is peeking out. There’s blood splatter all over his face and Slade wants to get his hands on him, do a little painting of his own, smear it across Dick’s mouth, then sink his teeth into that fat bottom lip of his, let some of his own blood mingle with it. Slade wants to see him covered in it.

It’s not really a desire he’s had before. Of course he doesn’t have a problem with the sight of blood. Of course he kills people for a living, but that’s what people don’t get about him. It’s just business. Killing is what he’s good at, what he was literally made for. So, that’s what he does. Some guys are good at filing insurance claims, Slade’s good at finding the weakest spot on the human body and running it through with a sword. Everyone has their talents.

And yeah, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the hell out of it most of the time. He enjoys the chase, the rush of adrenaline when they actually make him work for it. Sometimes, when it’s an especially nasty piece of work he’s been hired to take out, he even likes to hear them beg, knowing that their pathetic little lives are in his hands.

But this? His dick getting hard just from the sight of blood on Grayson’s face, wanting to let the kid keep pummeling the guy until his hands and his clothes are stained red with it? Wanting to push him up against the wall, lick his face clean and suck the blood off his pretty fingers? Yeah, that’s...new.

“I thought you said you liked to watch me work,” Dick says, wetting his mouth. He sounds annoyed, almost petulant. Slade almost lets him keep going.

“Now or never,” Slade tells him, raising a finger into the air at the sound of sirens a couple of blocks over.

Dick rolls his eyes and gets back up to his feet. “Whatever,” he says. “Go for it.”

He scales the side of the building even without his trusty grapple gun, swinging from fire escapes and using pipes and ledges to make his way to the roof. He’s still not ready to watch the life drain out of a person’s eyes and know that his own hands caused it, but he seems content enough now to pass the duty onto Slade.

It’s leaps and bounds from where they used to be and Slade honestly still isn’t sure how he feels about it.

He rendezvous with Dick a block away, finds him lying flat on his back with his knees pulled up, hands behind his head, staring up at pitch black sky. He doesn’t say anything when Slade lands on the roof, doesn’t even flinch. If his eyes weren’t open, Slade would’ve just assumed he’d fallen asleep.

Dick’s knuckles are still painted red with the blood of the man Slade just killed and every now and then he lifts his hand to his face and scratches at the streaks of it drying on his skin. His shirt’s inched up his stomach, flashing sweat slick skin and the dark hairs that begin at Dick’s navel and keep going beneath the waistband of his jeans. Slade wants -- he just  _ wants. _ He imagines grabbing Dick by his skinny little hips and flipping him over, yanking his pants down and just shoving his cock inside of him, taking him until Dick’s cries can be heard over the sirens and city noises. He’s pretty sure Dick would even let him right now.

“Can’t see the stars for shit in the city,” he finds himself saying instead, pulling the hood away from his face and sitting down next to Dick. “Always drove me fucking crazy, knowing they were up there, but looking up and seeing nothing but black.”

“Yeah,” Dick says after a few moments of silence. “Maybe they’re hiding.”

“Hiding?”

More lingering quiet, this time longer than a few beats.

“Yeah,” Dick finally replies. “Maybe they got tired of shining just so people could look up to them.”

 

: : :

 

They go back to Slade’s penthouse in the city. Slade’s not even sure Dick has anywhere to go anymore, he just follows him around now like a lost puppy. As soon as they get inside the door and Slade shuts it, Dick presses up against him and gets his hand on his cock. 

“You should fuck me,” he purrs against the underside of Slade’s jaw, nuzzling it like a kitten as he gropes at him through his pants. “Right here. You’re strong enough. You could just pick me up and --”

Slade reaches down and grips Dick’s wrist hard enough to make him wince. He can’t stop thinking about what Dick said up on the roof earlier. He keeps replaying it over and over. It’s hard for him to believe this kid would ever get tired of being in the spotlight. It’s what he was born into, what he was made for. Slade wonders if he just needs a different audience.

“Not tonight,” he says, almost amused by the indignant expression that flashes across Dick’s face, like no one has ever dared to tell him no before.

“But --”

Slade slides a hand into Dick hair and tugs. He expects the wince, but not so much the shameless moan that falls out of those pretty lips. He wasn’t going to kiss him, but he leans in and bites at his bottom lip and it turns into heated, bruises kisses, Dick making soft noises against his mouth and writhing against him, until Slade shoves him away.

“Go get on my bed,” he says. “Strip. There’s lube in the top drawer. I’ll be there after I pour a drink.”

Something promising flashes behind Dick’s eyes and he looks like he’s going to argue for a minute, but he just smirks and turns on his heels, stripping on the way to the bedroom instead of when he gets there, leaving his clothes scattered everywhere. When he reaches Slade’s bedroom door he opens it up, then leans against the opening. He’s a fucking work of art when he’s fully clothed, the lines of his body perfect and fluid, but when he’s naked it’s goddamn criminal. His cock is fully hard, curving slightly to the right, the head dragging wetly across the lower part of his belly, and Dick grips it and strokes it slowly as he makes eye contact with him across the room.

“Hurry up, old man,” he says, then shuts the door behind him.

Slade throws back one glass of whiskey, then pours another. He’s going to fucking need it.

 

: : :

 

When Slade walks into the bedroom, it already reeks of sex. Dick’s on his back with his legs splayed open, lazily stroking himself. His cock is slick and shiny and so hard he’s not sure how the kid can even stand it. Slade takes his drink and settles into the chair in the corner of the room to watch, not missing the huff of frustration that Dick lets out.

“You’re just going to sit there?”

Slade raises his glass to his mouth and takes a sip. “Yep.”

“You’re just,” Dick says, maybe a little more breathless, ”going to watch me?”

“Mmhm,” Slade hums, crossing one leg over the other and resting his glass on the arm of the chair. “And do you know why?”

“Because you’re a sadistic bastard?”

Slade smiles at him, with teeth. “Because you want me to. You always want somebody watching you, kid. No -- you need it. I’m not entirely sure you’d even  _ survive _ without being the center of somebody’s universe.”

“I’m not --”

“Shut up and touch yourself,” Slade says calmly, raising the glass to his lips again. “I didn’t ask you for your input. You’re here to put on a show for me, Grayson. So get to it.”

Dick’s face flushes red hot and Slade’s not sure if it’s from anger, embarrassment, or arousal; probably all of the above. But still, he starts moving his hand again, adding a bit more lubricant and shifting his position, bringing his legs up, but spreading them wider. Slade takes another drink as he watches Dick reach down with his left hand to roll his balls in his palm and pull at the soft, tender skin there as he jerks off.

Slade watches Dick’s chest rising and falling carefully, keeping tabs on how close Dick is getting to the edge. When he’s so close that Slade can hear how harsh and rapid his breathing is getting, his hand moving erratically on his cock instead of in a steady up and down motion, hips gyrating up into his fist, he says, “Hands down. Now.”

Dick looks across the room at him like he didn’t quite understand him, hand stilling.

“ _ Now, _ ” Slade growls and Dick complies, placing both hands on the bed beside him. His chest is still heaving with deep, ragged breaths, his cock leaking a steady stream of precome onto his belly. “Very good. I honestly thought you’d be harder to break in than this.”

“Fuck you,” Dick grits out, fingers clenching the comforter beneath him.

Slade laughs. “Already said no,” he reminds Dick. “This is all you’re getting tonight. Maybe if you’d finished that poor bastard off like I asked you to you’d be getting my cock inside you. Alas.”

“I hate you,” Dick grumbles.

“Well yeah,” Slade grins. “Why else do you think you’re so hard right now?”

Dick turns his head to the side and ignores him. That, Slade thinks, just won’t do.

“Again,” Slade says and Dick, too desperate not to, takes hold of his cock again and starts stroking himself. “Ah-ah. You look at me or you don’t touch that pretty cock at all.”

Dick digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but still he turns his head, cheeks flushing as he makes eye contact with Slade again.

“That’s it,” Slade says appraisingly. “See, you can follow directions.”

Dick’s too lost in how good he feels again already to reply with some snappy comeback or roll his eyes. He’s rolling his hips in shallow little thrusts into the tight circle of his fist and biting his lip to hold back the moans Slade is sure he would make otherwise.

“Don’t know why you’re playing coy now,” Slade chuckles. “Usually I can’t pay you to stop running your mouth, but now all of a sudden you’re a quiet little mouse.”

Dick attempts to shoot a glare at him, but his eyes roll back into his head before he can get that far. His hips are coming off the bed now, his hand making filthy, wet sounds as he fists his cock. Slade takes a good look at how tight his body is wound, the veins in his arms bulging out, his balls full and tight. The kid’s like a warm bottle of champagne just about to pop.

“No.”

Dick’s eyes fly open, jerking toward Slade’s to stare at him. He has this betrayed look on his face that is cuter than it should be.

“ _ Slade. _ ”

“No,” Slade repeats coolly, draining the rest of his scotch and standing up, crossing the room to go stand by the bed. “Put your hands down or I will restrain them for you.”

“Fuck you,” Dick snaps. The look he’s giving Slade is either a challenge or one of disbelief; it's hard to tell when he’s so flushed and wrecked. “You can’t just --”

Slade makes a  _ tsk _ sound at him and shakes his head. Quicker than Dick can realize what’s happening, Slade reaches under the mattress and pulls out the leather restraints, securing them around each of Dick’s wrists. A slight hint of fear flashes behind Dick’s eyes, but only momentarily. The kid’s moods have always been fairly mercurial, but the grin that spread across his face when he tugs against the restraints is still unexpected.

“Kinky, Slade.”

“I have no perverse interest in keeping you bound,” Slade says. “In fact, I would much prefer to sit here and watch you touch yourself, but if you can’t follow directions, then this is my only option.”

“I  _ was _ touching myself,” Dick grits out, but it’s closer to a whine than any other sound he’s made all night. “You kept making me stop.”

“And can you blame me,” Slade says, crawling across the bed on his knees to sit back on them between Dick’s spread legs. As soon as he takes hold of his cock Dick’s body arches and his mouth falls open, a filthy, desperate sound spilling from it. It’s funny, he’d made little to no noise when he’d been touching himself, but apparently having someone else’s hand on him is just too much. “If I let you come, you’d be finished. So, why would I let that happen when I’m enjoying the show so much?”

Slade tightens his grip and strokes Dick fast and hard, brings him so close to the brink he actually thinks the kid might not be able to hold back this time, then takes his hand off of a him. Dick’s chest, splotched pink and red, heaves with his heavy breathing. His cock flexes of its own accord, still seeking that sweet release that Slade keeps denying him.

Then Slade does it again and again. And again and again. He takes his time sometimes, stroking Dick slow, working him up to it, getting him so close he’s practically begging for it, and sometimes he’s merciless, holding him tight and jacking him hard, holding eye contact and forcing Dick to the edge like he’s daring him to jump off without a net. He knows Dick’s body well enough by now to know exactly when he needs to pull off, down to the millisecond.

After an hour, Dick starts crying. It comes out as a sob at first, not unlike the rest of the noises he’s been making, but slowly it dissolves into something else. Tears stream down his face even as he begs Slade to let him come. The thing is, Slade’s seen sex tears before. He’s tortured people with orgasm denial for so long that they’ve literally cried from needing it so bad. It’s hot as fuck.

But this isn’t that.

“Kid --”

“Please,” Dick begs, sniffling through the tears. “Slade, please. Let me, just let me -- I just -- I want --”

He doesn’t even know if Dick knows what he’s saying anymore, if he even know what it is he thinks he wants. Slade reaches over and swiftly releases the restraints from both of Dick’s wrists and scoops him up.

“I can’t, I can’t --” Dick chokes on sobs and Slade holds him, holds onto him, holds him together, maybe.

“Shh,” Slade says, hand at the small of Dick’s back. “I got you. You’re okay.”

He’s aware of how stupid those two phrases sound together in present company, but it doesn’t make it any less true. He just hopes Dick gets that in his current state. The bed is a mess of lube and sweat and precome, so Slade picks Dick up and carries him over to the chair he’d been sitting in, holding him in his lap.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, carding his fingers through Dick’s matted hair.

“Touch,” Dick mumbles, hand fisted in the front of Slade’s shirt, but when Slade reaches own to wrap his hand back around him, Dick shakes his head. “Just...touch. Me.”

Slade’s not entirely sure what he means or what the difference is, but instead of touching his dick, Slade slides his hands up Dick’s back and kneads the nape of his neck with his fingers and Dick just melts against him, leaning into the touch, craving it. He’s starved for it, Slade realizes. Not for sexual things, but just this, someone’s hands on his body, someone holding him, the warmth of someone else’s skin against his own. Slade can practically hear his heartbeat return to normal as he pushes his fingers into Dick’s hair, can feel the tension and grief just evaporate from him as he drags his knuckles down his spine.

Slowly, Dick’s body starts to warm back up to him. That pretty flush returns back to his skin and he starts squirming in Slade’s lap.

“That’s it,” Slade murmurs next to his ear. He spreads his thighs apart and Dick shifts in his lap, moving around until he’s straddling him. Dick’s hands are still clenched in the front of Slade’s shirt and Slade is still fully dressed, but it doesn’t seem to bother Dick at all.

“Can I,” Dick whispers, almost too soft for Slade to hear, his cheeks brightening with color and Slade has to bite back a growl.

“Take it,” he says instead, sliding his hands down Dick’s body and curving his hands around that perfect ass, encouraging him. “You earned it.”

Dick just sighs breathily and starts rolling his hips, cock rubbing against the front of Slade’s shirt where it’s trapped between their bodies.

“Can I,” he says again, licking his lips as he reaches for the buttons on Slade’s shirt and Slade just nods. Dick groans as soon as he pushes Slade’s shirt open and is able to thrust his cock against Slade’s bare skin, the slick head of his cock slipping over Slade’s abs so good that he throws his head back and bites his lip.

For all of Slade’s denying him release tonight, he can’t help but marvel in this. Dick just taking his pleasure, using Slade’s body to rub off on, not an ounce of shame left on his gorgeous face. It’s such a good look for him. But then, Slade realizes, most things are. Hell, he’s even pretty when he cries.

“Slade,” Dick moans softly, eyes hooded, but open. He looks almost drunk like this. He’s got his hands on Slade’s shoulders now, bracing himself as he ruts against Slade’s body. “Feels so good.”

“Looks like it,” Slade says, squeezing Dick’s ass in his hands. “You gonna come like this, just rubbing your cock against me, humping me like an eager little puppy?”

“ _ Slade _ ,” Dick whines and Slade feels the spurt of precome that dribbles out of Dick’s cock, warm and sticky against his skin.

“You’re fucking dirty, Grayson,” he grins, then he slides a finger between Dick’s cheeks and brushes it over the tight ring of muscles and --

“Oh  _ fuck -- _ ” Dick gasps and jerks, shooting thick, hot streams of come onto Slade’s stomach as he comes, digging his fingers into Slade’s shoulders and fucking his dick against the filthy mess he made until he’s spent and collapses against him.

“You are absolutely fucking shameless,” Slade rumbles next to his ear, then he’s lifting Dick off of him, turning him so that he’s still in his lap, but facing the other direction. He gets his cock out and swipes his fingers through the mess on his own stomach, using it slick himself up.

He doesn’t fuck him. Oh, he wants to. He wants to spread Dick open and bury himself inside of him until he’s balls deep, but he’s too far gone for that tonight. Instead, he grips Dick’s thighs and pulls him back until he’s lying flush against him, back to Slade’s chest. Slade’s favorite thing about Dick has always been that he’s such a fast fucking learner and this proves no different. He immediately starts rolling those gorgeous, slender hips of his, grinding his sweet, fat ass against Slade’s cock, and it’s fucking amazing.

“Yeah,” Slade growls out. “Just like that.”

He doesn’t even have to do anything, just sits back and lets Dick rub against him until he feels it start to build, the heat coiling tight and hot in his belly, and eventually impatience snaps his last bit of control and he reaches down, takes his dick in his hand, and jerks himself off until he lets out a deep, feral grunt and comes all over Dick’s ass.

 

: : : 

 

“You still think I’m a good guy,” Dick says in the middle of the night, lying on his side. He’s not facing him, so Slade wonders how he even knew he was awake. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s talking so softly because he just needs to hear himself say it. “I get why you don’t trust me. It makes sense. But I’m not. I’m not one of them anymore.”

Then he’s wriggling back, getting close enough that his body aligns perfectly with Slade’s and he makes a soft, contented sound when Slade’s hand curves around his hip. 

“I know I screwed up tonight. I choked. But next time,” Dick says, grinding back against Slade with intent, despite it being two in the morning. “Next time, I’m going to make you proud.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Holla at ur girl on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/ohmcgee)


End file.
